


Eragon: The confrontation

by Perspeculative



Category: The Inheritance Cycle - Christopher Paolini
Genre: Fantasy, Multi, Science Fiction & Fantasy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-01
Updated: 2019-11-01
Packaged: 2021-01-16 16:24:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,839
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21274172
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Perspeculative/pseuds/Perspeculative
Summary: Galbatorix defeated the entire ancient order of Dragon Riders with only a few allies he himself raised. And then he ruled with what could only be called negligence. What could bring a man to do such a thing? And how does Eragon, ordinary farm boy, fit in with Galbatorix's plans? If Eragon wants to return the days of the Dragon Riders, he must find within himself the power to overcome even evil King Galbatorix, who has had hundreds of years to consolidate his power.A rationalist short story illustrating the power of cooperation and training to overcome even those enemies solely motivated by accumulating as much power as possible.





	Eragon: The confrontation

**Author's Note:**

> AN: I invite you, the reader, to at each break think about where Eragon's thought process is going to go next and what the eventual result of the confrontation is likely to be.
> 
> Alexander Wales once gave the advice in the Rationally Writing podcast to first write the scene you want to see. This was the story for me. Originally it was intended to be a full book but I've found I've moved on.

Eragon called to Saphira, _almost there, I've managed to breach the inner defenses._ Saphira's now deep mental voice came back, _Good, little one._ There was a slight off note in Eragon's perception, but he dismissed it, focusing on his task. Even the fire from the torches, shadows dancing in the air currents seemed to be pushing him forward. He could hear, as he had learned with magic, the whispering of the flames and the music of the wind. He thought once again for safety, _adurna_. He had come to think of his mental ward scheme as like water - for how do you overcome water by force? It was the best he and Brom - oh, Brom - and Arya, Saphira, and the elves could come up with.

__

Once he reached the end of the corridor, the entrance to Galbatorix's Eldunarí treasury loomed. Seemingly defying the torchlight, it receded into the blackness even as he dismissed the locking wards with a thought.

Eragon strode through - and was pulled into an iron embrace by the man himself. Galbatorix.

Eragon could not escape, immediately trying for his magic and finding it absent. Calling desperately for Saphira, he found even his mental communication, which they had all come to rely upon so much, to be completely cut off.

Galbatorix set him down, and smiled. Eragon was rooted in place - as in, he could not move, due to Galbatorix' magic.

"My boy," said Galbatorix. He had not a hair out of place. The elven features of a Dragon Rider had progressed to perfection in him, and his smile was like a razor's edge, his very skin seeming to radiate danger.

Eragon had prepared for this situation with the others. He was to immediately give up all pretence of resistance. If Galbatorix had him completely in his power, the only way forward was underestimation. Eragon tried to relax into the impossibly rigid hold on his body. It was as if time had stopped for all except his mind.

"Do you know," said Galbatorix idly, looking at Eragon almost proudly, "That I have anticipated this day for over one hundred years?"

Eragon thought, _how can that be, I'm only-_

"I know you haven't been around so long," Galbatorix waved his hand. "But I have. Do you know why I have done the things I have done, Eragon?"

They'd had...theories. Obviously Galbatorix wasn't stupid - he'd almost single-handedly overcome the ancient order of the Dragon Riders when barely out of his teens. His power had only grown from then. Eragon tried to actually think in seriousness. Why _did_ he think Galbatorix had done what he did, now that - it appeared - Galbatorix had been expecting exactly this situation, this situation that they had been planning for months, that had relied on the barest threads of chance for them to pull through-

"You've been manipulating us." said Eragon slowly. "The entire time."

Galbatorix' face did not change, but he gave the impression of beaming proudly.

"And why," he said slowly, "would I do such a thing?"

Now that he realised he could talk, Eragon saw a potential way out. But—he cautioned himself—it was almost as though Galbatorix could read his thoughts...But he hadn't detected any intrusion. Eragon knew it was only that Galbatorix had complete control of his body and the physical environment.

Giving no outward sign of his thoughts, as he had been trained, Eragon replied. "You don't want to rule."

Galbatorix sighed. "No. I love ruling. I love being the King. I love the power, the glory, being able to do whatever I please and having all wait upon me. Think again."

Eragon continued, "Alone. I meant."

Galbatorix betrayed a slight surprise. Of course, with a being of such power, Eragon knew this could be entirely faked. However, he knew he had to play along if he was to get out of this situation and accomplish the goals of the Varden, which was his only concern.

Galbatorix murmured thoughtfully (though the sound still rang clearly through Eragon's body), "Ah. Perhaps you see more than I thought." He paused.

Galbatorix seemed to come to a decision. "I will show you something, boy. Something I show to no other. Something I myself have made, over the years, and honed to the finest degree."

Eragon could not help but feel a flutter of excitement at this, but he tried to transform it into excitement at likely getting to physically move, and thus moving closer to his goal of removing himself from Galbatorix' clutches. Thanks to his training, he succeeded, and managed to act perfectly consistently with his model of someone who was genuinely excited at the prospect of seeing Galbatorix's thingamabob while actually becoming more energised for his escape.

Galbatorix nodded to himself. "I think you will find this enlightening."

They walked further into the sanctum. Eragon had no choice in the matter - Galbatorix was able to puppet his body without effort, moving it as easily as if it were he himself.

They reached a pool of stars. Or at least, that's what it looked like to Eragon. A huge pool of something like liquid. Eragon found he could sense it with his magical sense - was it silver? Mercury? Water? He could not decide. It seemed almost the abstract concept of a liquid, a perfect scrying pool which contained exactly all the purest elements.

Eragon, upon realising this, finally thought to himself, _oh wyrda._ I really _might_ be trapped here. Keeping silently within his own mind, he channelled his defeat into a silent cry, perhaps to fate itself. _Help?_

He hoped against hope that somehow Saphira, or Arya; someone, _anyone_ would hear him, despite now knowing what they had been up against the entire time. There was no defeating this. No...defeating...this. No-

Eragon thought quickly. _I cannot defeat him. No one can defeat him. Therefore, we must make a deal, and I must think of one that is acceptable to both us and him. And I must do this in order to have any chance whatsoever of ever seeing anyone I love again._ He quickly rechecked his chain of reasoning and found it solid. He used an application of his magic sense, which had been awakened by proximity to the pool, to check it using the external currents as well.

Eragon had a sudden thought. _Galbatorix likely knows this. He likely knew this immediately upon my entrance, and for some time before. Therefore,_ he _must want a deal too. Then, I should wait and see what he has to say._ And now it was easy to "fake" excitement at seeing Galbatorix's craft. The excitement was real.

Galbatorix had been quietly contemplating the pool while Eragon thought, a wistfulness overtaking his countenance. His face rarely changed, but he was a master at giving an impression of an emotion with the barest of change.

He turned to Eragon. "So, my boy," he asked, "what do you think?"

"It's amazing," Eragon answered truthfully. "I...I truly do not know why you have done what you have done. Might you show me?" Basic politeness rarely led one astray, he thought.

Galbatorix' smile widened fractionally while the pressure on Eragon's body increased, and he felt a probe on his mental defenses. Fortunately, they had spent the most time of all on preparing him for those - and it was his special talent after all. The thing he had felt, all those moons ago, drawing him unerringly to Saphira and adventure. Or, so they had assumed. Perhaps it _had_ all just been Galbatorix. All of it. For by what he saw now in front of him, he _did_ know the implications.

A perfect scrying pool. Galbatorix knew the future.

Not all of it. No one could say that, except perhaps fate, or _wyrda_. But Eragon was completely outmatched. His entire team, the entire elven race combined even if they were all behind him, could not match up to this. And he had to somehow overcome. The magnitude of the task appalled him.

Eragon slowly forced his thoughts from that path. He chose to believe that what he and Saphira and (he hoped) Arya had was real, and that the trials they had been through were not just orchestrations played out for the amusement of a distant monster. For that's what Galbatorix appeared to Eragon as now, a true monster. How could he have this power, and yet let all that had happened, happen?

Galbatorix, or the _thing_ that wore his visage, smiled genially again at Eragon and turned to the pool. He began speaking.

"As you may know, Riders tend to acquire power, the longer we live." He paused. "I am the longest-lived Rider, except the one you know as Oromis. He is crippled."

Eragon wondered where he was going with this.

"The obvious conclusion is that I am the most powerful living Rider." Galbatorix chuckled slowly, and softly. "I know this to be true. And the reason? Well, you see before you."

Eragon found himself permitted to speak. "Yes, I do," he said seriously. "And you are, I see that too."

Galbatorix nodded. "Why, then, have I drawn you here?" He asked, in apparent seriousness, expecting Eragon to answer.

Eragon gave it a stab. "Because you want to end the Resistance? After all, if I am its symbol, and I am defeated, they will likely lose all hope." Eragon thought this all to be true, but yet felt that Galbatorix would not simply kill him, although he had that power. And so there must be some other manner of defeat that he wished.

Galbatorix nodded again. "Yes. If I kill you, the Resistance will be ended, and I will rule for ever more." He said this in all seriousness. "At least, that is what I see, in the pool. And it, as I can see you can tell, is the best instrument for scrying ever created."

Eragon nodded in agreement.

Galbatorix continued. "Why, then, have I not done so?"

Eragon felt a little more free to act, but remained as if perfectly bound. He did not want to give even the impression of resistance to this...this unstoppable force that was the King. It was his philosophy, after all. Like water. Perhaps ironically, because in this case he had to stay perfectly rigid.

"You want to make a deal." said Eragon, with some confidence. After all, this was the only possible conclusion one could come to given what Galbatorix could reasonably expect him to know-

"No." Galbatorix raised an eyebrow. "I want to kill you and rule forever. Think again. I will give you time. And," he paused, "if you ask, you may use the pool."

* * *

The answer - Eragon's first thought - was obvious. Galbatorix's goals were, somehow, incompatible. That is, somehow, desiring to kill Eragon and desiring to rule forever were in conflict, and it was in a way that his scrying pool could not resolve. Nor could Galbatorix, his dragon Shruikan, nor themselves in any combination resolve it.

Eragon's heart gave a thump. He carefully controlled it back to its previous rhythm using an internal incantation of _líf_. This was an opportunity. If he could present as if it were the only possibility, an outcome which was acceptable to both Galbatorix and he, which resulted in him not dying, and accomplishing the Varden's goals - why, he may live yet. The thought gave him the strength to continue.

Galbatorix regarded him motionlessly.

His next instinct was that he must avoid using the scrying pool wherever possible unless it was to mislead. He knew that Galbatorix knew that the scrying pool was not all-knowing - and therefore, he should not trust it either. He was going to have to only ask questions to which he pretty much knew the answer, in a way that would mislead Galbatorix toward the outcome he wanted.

Appearing lost in thought, Eragon swayed slightly and took a step. "May I move freely?" he asked mildly.

Galbotorix motioned permission, motionlessly.

Eragon took the time to review the Varden's goals. They were - they had boiled it down - to see that the people of the land were cared for, as they had not been under Galbatorix. They also wished to reinstate the Dragon Riders and instigate trade between the elven peoples, Urgals, humans, and any other races which may be discovered from beyond the borders of Alagaësia, perhaps even the wild dragons who had disappeared long ago.

Since he had time, Eragon let his thoughts wander. Brom had once told him that Dragons were born wise. That they knew only one maxim - the rule of tooth and claw - of strength. And yet, they had their own society, and it was not all bloodshed. There was a peace, in fact, and often, between dragons. After all, they also needed to find a mate.

Dragons were very intelligent and magical, and something about the Rider bond made these attributes more so, and appear more in the human (or elf, or other race) in turn. Wild dragons did not speak with their thoughts to each other.

Eragon shook himself. He was getting lost. The goal was to inescapably convince Galbatorix that he must accept a certain deal which was the only way to attain both of their goals.

Galbatorix had stated his goals to be "kill you and rule forever." Eragon had assumed there must be a contradiction there. He decided to ask, given Galbatorix had permitted him to continue this far.

"Can you kill me?" He asked.

"Of course." Galbatorix nodded, again mildly. "Do you doubt it?"

"Not at all." Eragon replied.

"Then, can you rule forever if you do?" Eragon continued.

Galbatorix shrugged. "I assume so."

Eragon did not ask the obvious question, so as not to tempt fate. Or Galbatorix, in this case.

Eragon's thoughts turned to the Varden's goals. They had assumed they would have to defeat Galbatorix, as he was the King, and he had allowed all the ruin to come to the land, and even perhaps encouraged it, through his inaction.

But, now that Eragon thought, was it actually _required_ for them to depose Galbatorix? He could see a situation where they actually _helped_ Galbatorix rule forever, provided - that is, exactly and only in the case where - he permitted them to administer the land, and cater to his every whim on top of that, as he had stated he enjoyed.

Eragon took a risk. "Do you _want_ to kill me?"

Galbatorix shrugged. "Yes." He said this with utmost conviction. Eragon could tell that he in fact did.

Eragon took another risk - for what what his life against this?

"Do you enjoy killing for itself, or is it just something you must do?" Eragon asked this seriously. Galbatorix appeared to enjoy killing - there were gladiatorial arenas occasionally held in the capital after all - but given the existence of the pool, Eragon had to question every assumption they had ever made about the King.

Galbatorix shrugged again. "On occasion. In your case, I would enjoy it very much."

Eragon again did not tempt him with a follow-up question.

It was time to think, and seriously. He may even require the pool, even knowing that Galbatorix would know whatever he saw and that it was fallible. Or at least, that Galbatorix considered it fallible.

* * *

Eragon thought for a long time. He managed, silently, to come to several concrete fixed points in his thinking. Thinking was difficult, like this, unable to write anything down, unable to move except in perfect harmony with someone who was genuinely submissive and helpful to Galbatorix' goals. Yet it was clear Galbatorix did not have access to Eragon's thoughts. His defense was holding, and he held to that. There had to be a way.

The first fixed point was that they must actually _actively help_ Galbatorix to rule forever. This was unavoidable. It would resolve half of the problem, but the Varden would be reduced to mere wardens over the land. In fact, he wryly thought, it was even in their name to be such. He thought he could sell the idea. Saphira and Arya would be able to understand what he had been up against, if he were given time to explain. And they would be able to convince the others.

He continued. The next fixed point was that he must not allow Galbatorix to ever _not_ be ruling. For if he did, the Varden would immediately become vulnerable to him. In effect, they must trap him on his throne. Of course, he wouldn't be literally glued to the seat - a King is free to roam his Kingdom after all - but a binding agreement must be made.

Eragon had to come up with a spell in the ancient language, that he must get Galbatorix to say, and genuinely mean, and he must also say the same thing, and they both therefore must be bound by it. The effect of the spell would be that if either of them were to ever deviate "too much" from it (ie, by more than a small, finite amount, judged by the other), they would immediately lose all their power.

It would mean irrevocably tying them together. They would both give up a potentially large portion of their freedom. Therefore, since Eragon had to say the same spell, he had a strong incentive to in turn give Galbatorix as much freedom as possible while still "trapping" him, and on top of that he had to get Galbatorix to accept the deal in the first place.

Eragon was _definitely_ going to need the pool for this. But which question?

Galbatorix made a slight movement, as if impatient. Eragon's head snapped (of his own will) toward him. "Wait." said Eragon. "I am working through the problem." He did not care if this would cause Galbatorix to strike him down. There would be other "heroes," if Galbatorix were allowed to continue as he were. In fact, eventually, given the natural incompleteness of the scrying pool, and even the inability of Galbatorix, his dragon, and the pool together to solve the problem, even if Eragon were to be struck down here, eventually such a "hero" would be likely to _actually_ defeat Galbatorix, even if only purely by chance. Forever was a long time, after all, and Galbatorix clearly didn't care about his subjects of themselves, except for attaining the result of ruling them.

Eragon saw in this an opportunity, once again. If he could guarantee that he and the Varden, and the future Riders, would work _with_ Galbatorix to overcome any such hero, and guarantee (as far as possible) that Galbatorix remain on the throne, then Galbatorix might accept that deal, even if it failed his other stated goal of killing Eragon.

Eragon saw an opportunity for another clarifying question, and failed, caught up in his reasoning process, to pause for a moment.

"Do you wish to kill me because I am a hero, a type of person or thing which you despise, or is it a fundamental personal dislike that cannot be resolved?"

Galbatorix actually smiled. "I hate you with all my being." Despite the smile, Eragon could tell this too was serious.

Eragon had better return in kind. Not that he hadn't been taking this seriously. He realised in hindsight that he should perhaps have paused in asking the previous question, but it was too late now, and Galbatorix had not struck him down.

"Might I be permitted to examine the pool more closely?" Eragon asked, enunciating clearly and slowly.

Galbatorix shrugged again. "If you wish." Eragon had the feeling of pressure on his mind again, but as was his habit he gave completely to it and thus was protected.

Eragon slowly walked over to the pool and examined it. "Do you know," he remarked, carefully appearing idle, "that this is perhaps the most beautiful thing I have ever seen?" It was, in fact, except for Saphira, which was very obvious to him but he had to keep hidden at all costs from Galbatorix, who was obviously very proud of his pool.

Galbatorix smiled. "Thank you. It took some effort to perfect."

"I can imagine," Eragon replied.

"Can you?" Galbatorix asked.

Eragon started - that was unexpected. "No." he immediately replied, truthfully. "In fact I have no idea how difficult this was or was not to create."

"Let me explain it to you-"

"No," said Eragon.

Galbatorix narrowed his eyes. Not just gave the impression, actually did it.

"You do not like me." said Eragon. "I do not see why we should spend any longer in each others' company than absolutely necessary."

"And it is not necessary for me to explain this to you?" Galbatorix asked, mildly.

"No." Eragon replied, as sure as he could be about anything.

Galbatorix paused again.

Then he shrugged. "All right then. You may continue. But be warned. I will not permit another interruption."

Eragon took this at face value and resolved not to interrupt again. In fact, he took some time repeating this to himself internally, so he would not forget. It may result in instant annihilation, after all. He wouldn't want it to happen accidentally.

* * *

Eragon continued his thought process. He had reached, if he trusted his own thought process, the conclusions that:

1\. The Varden must help Galbatorix to remain on the throne (and thus "trap" him there).  
2\. They must cater to his every whim.  
3\. They must sacrifice Eragon's freedom in precise quantity with Galbatorix in order to trap him.  
4\. If either of them ever deviated (in the other's judgment too much) from the binding oath taken in the ancient language, they would each (whoever had deviated) immediately lose all their power.

Eragon immediately reached the conclusion that he could not trust his own thought process. This deal seemed _far too good_ for Galbatorix. He knew that Galbatorix did not have access to his thoughts. But he also could reasonably extrapolate that something like this was the deal that Galbatorix expected him to eventually propose.

Eragon was completely resolved not to do it. There must be a better way. However, he must, from this point on, act in perfect concert with Galbatorix's model of him as if he were moving inevitably toward this conclusion, while actually checking his thought process and finding where the error was that would let him actually escape.

Eragon continued as he was, carelessly swaying and wandering around, deep in thought. It was what he had been doing before, after all. Inside, he did not permit himself any emotion. He must not even feel too excited, fearful, or anything, even though he now saw the possibility of winning.

In fact - he paused again. _Should_ he win, even if he could? The only parts of the previous criteria that he really _fundamentally_ had a problem with were 1. catering to Galbatorix's every whim, 2. the giving up of (his own) freedom, and 3. the question of the fairness of Galbatorix's judgment as to the extent of the deviation from their agreement.

In fact, shouldn't they, rather than fighting, trade? After all, trade was mutually beneficial. It was basic economics - both parties benefited from trade. The benefits need not be in any particular relation to each other either. If Eragon could set up, rather than a binding deal, a _one-off trade_ that would be mutually beneficial to both parties and ensure as far as possible that both the Varden's and Galbatorix's goals were accomplished, that would be a more acceptable outcome than the preceding conclusion he had been almost forced to reach.

Eragon could see a way. He would have to _actually die_ and trust in his allies to bring him back. In fact, it should be _fun_ for Galbatorix to kill him. After all, Galbatorix had stated in complete seriousness that he hated Eragon with complete conviction.

That - Eragon's death and the Varden's service - would result in both of Galbatorix's goals being achieved: Killing Eragon, and ruling forever; and Eragon would have to trust in the Varden to bring him back to life from actual death.

This had never been done.

In principle, it required someone to give their life's energy for another.  
In principle, it was just an extension of ordinary healing magic.  
In principle, it could be done.

He would just be asking another to sacrifice their life for him, instead.

Eragon paused, and carefully shook his head in the exact way he would've if he'd come to a particularly knotty problem leading to the reasoned outcome that Galbatorix expected. From here he had to be _even more careful_ to behave in the way that Galbatorix expected, unless he could deliberately surprise-

"Do you like darts?" Eragon burst out, at random. "The game, I mean?"

Galbatorix blinked, as if that were totally unexpected to him. Eragon was unable to tell for sure, but he thought it actually had surprised him. But - and wait - he had to make sure that it still led to the path that Galbatorix wanted-

Eragon shut up and continued thinking. He had to let himself be genuinely surprised by Galbatorix now in the case that he had surprised Galbatorix, and in the case that he hadn't, he had to _actually re-reason out_ the process leading to the binding, starting from the question he had just asked.

He waited.

Galbatorix said nothing.

Eragon paused some more.

Galbatorix blinked. "I don't see the relevance." he said.

Eragon thought quickly - he was on a timer now. "Darts, you might recall, is a game of skill, yes?" He paused to wait for acceptance. None was forthcoming.

"Well anyway, In games of skill like darts, the goal of the game is to get the most points." Eragon was rambling, but now he could again see the path leading to the binding. Perhaps it was a different one, though, and he could surprise Galbatorix for real...?

Galbatorix did not move or give any sign.

"And it occurs to me," continued Eragon, "that this is in some way like what we are doing." He said this with finality.

Galbatorix paused. Then he asked, "You mean, we are throwing darts at a dartboard in order to see who obtains the most points at the end of the game?"

As soon as Galbatorix had finished speaking, Eragon said "No. We are throwing the darts at _each other_ in order to see who gains the most points. Why do we not, in this process, also work cooperatively to maximise the number of points obtained by the eventual winner? I see no harm in it."

Galbatorix blinked again, and turned. His dragon, Shruikan, reared its, or his, head from the blackness, and Eragon saw that he was guarding Galbatorix's Eldunarí. Eragon chose to ignore this information, as it was completely irrelevant at this point to what he was doing, which was reasoning to a binding in the ancient language, as Galbatorix seemed to expect.

There seemed to pass a communication between Galbatorix and Shruikan which was indecipherable to Eragon except that he knew it was there. He could recognise mind-to-mind communication, after all. If there was one thing he knew, it was that.

Eragon re-schooled himself. Binding. While Galbatorix's attention was distracted, he had been allowed a reprieve from his act. This was fortunate, but he could not allow himself even such breaks as this. It appeared Galbatorix had not reached the same conclusion as him yet, requiring his dragon's help. Galbatorix had not yet looked at the pool, however. Eragon saw this was another way to win - to force Galbatorix to use the pool. However, he didn't want to win. He wanted to "score the most points overall," for the Varden, and heck, why not for Galbatorix too if it could be ensured that he would be cooperative. Eragon knew nothing was certain except binding oaths in the ancient language. He stopped his thinking process there, carefully _not_ thinking the following thought.

Galbatorix turned back to Eragon. "You have intrigued Shruikan." he stated idly.

Eragon bowed. "Thank you, great one," he said.

Shruikan bowed his head back. Galbatorix snapped his head around to look at Shruikan, who gave off the appearance of innocence. Galbatorix appeared truly rattled by this, and refocused entirely on Eragon with razor-sharp attention.

Eragon said, "I may propose a trade. In this trade, we each get what we want. It involves a climactic final battle between us, in which you achieve your goal of killing me, and your further goal of ruling Alagaësia forever. However, you must first listen, and respond adequately to, all of my conditions. Do you agree to continue a dialogue with me, provided we move toward a mutually beneficial agreement in which the preceding turns out to be the case, or some other agreement which results in you getting what you want?"

Galbatorix paused for a long time, finally glancing at the pool and turning to Shruikan, who slightly inclined his head. Galbatorix finally said "I will listen to what you may propose. But first, I wish to confirm you understand what you are saying. Do you understand that you would be agreeing to throw the fight? To die? Further, that I personally would kill you, and do so with great enjoyment?"

Eragon immediately replied. "I do understand this. To rephrase what you are saying, I understand that I personally will die, and you will achieve both your aims which you have stated to me as killing me, and ruling forever. Further, you also implied that you have things you enjoy more than other things, which I plan to take into account in this potential upcoming agreement. In particular, I think you will enjoy, at the very least, killing me."

Galbatorix shook his head disbelievingly. "I still do not think you understand what you are saying. Do you want a battle here and now? I could end you in an instant, boy."

Eragon again replied instantly. "Of course not. I know that, and I know that you know that. Further, in what way would it be enjoyable for you to kill me in this way? I conjecture that you wouldn't enjoy it at all."

Galbatorix visibly controlled himself, looking again at Shruikan, who gave no outward sign.

"So you are saying," he repeated slowly, "That you would potentially agree at some point to fight with me, to the death, and do your best such that I would enjoy it? Then you would further ensure that I rule Alagaësia forever, after this event has occurred?" He stared at Eragon very intently.

"Yes." said Eragon. "But recall that I required you listen to all my conditions first, and that I only may potentially propose this deal."

Galbatorix narrowed his eyes once again, still staring very intently at Eragon.

Eragon took this as a motion to continue and did so. "The gist of the deal would be like this. First, you give us, the Varden, time to develop the spell of resurrection. Then, you may kill me, and you must not prevent them from trying to bring me back, however much you might want to. In return, I and the Varden will honestly help you in all your goals - helping you remain the King and perhaps even killing me again, once we have sufficient experience with the spell.

"And in return for this, you will honestly help us, the Varden, in our goals, except in ways where our goals conflict with yours, in which case you must engage in trade with us in order to determine who benefits and in what situation. We, the Varden, will work out all the administrative details, administer your rulings to your people, and so on, so you may focus on whatever it is that you enjoy doing. But - and this is key - you must genuinely mean the spirit of this agreement when we might potentially take it, should we decide to, in the binding oath of the ancient language.

"You would not be giving anything up. I would be giving up my life, but I would get it back, at least temporarily. All I would request from you for now is a delay in setting up the situation I requested. That is - we must wait for our battle until the resurrection spell has been developed, and also, we must actually make this potential agreement."

Finally Eragon allowed himself to think the thought he had suppressed earlier - that his real goal was a trade, not a binding, and began to act accordingly. He felt that this would be more beneficial to both sides - like that game of darts in which both opponents cooperated so that the eventual winner might gain the most points. And on the way, he hoped Galbatorix would have enough fun that he wouldn't bend all his energy as much as possible toward killing Eragon over and over. There had to be other things Galbatorix enjoyed. In fact-

"Have you played darts before?" Asked Eragon.

Galbatorix shook his head. He gave a rueful grin. "It sounds like I should try. I have spent most of my energy on my life's work, my pool. Yet you are not even interested." He paused, and Eragon felt a demand.

"Oh, I am indeed _very_ interested. It's an amazing piece of work." he said honestly. "It's just that I came here for a reason, and you seem to be hostile, so I must work to my purpose, just as you must work to yours."

"What if-" Galbatorix burst out suddenly. He controlled his features again, giving off annoyance, this time with himself.

"What if," he said again slowly, menacingly, "I ever changed my mind about ruling forever or killing you? Would you still support me wholeheartedly in that?"

Eragon shrugged. "Maybe. We'd have to see what it was you turned your efforts to."

Galbatorix paused, now really glaring. He made a small motion, as if to look at Shruikan or the pool, but stopped himself.

Eragon looked at the pool. "Would you like to show me, now, what you have made? Knowing now that a potential agreement is possible that is acceptable to both of us?"

"I haven't agreed to that part yet." Galbatorix said. "But I will show you the pool." He smiled.

* * *

"At first, this was crafted from purest silver." Galbatorix explained. "Over the years, I have added, and subtracted, and refined the materials until the magic is as clear as possible."

"So it started off like a mirror?" asked Eragon?

Galbatorix thought for a moment. "You could say that, boy. But to compare it to any mere instrument for checking that one's personal fripperies are in order is a grave disservice. Even then it was an object of power. I did not begin work until I understood what it was I was trying to create."

Eragon nodded. This was only basic sensibility when crafting new, highly magical objects. The ancient language and your intent did a lot of work, but for anything truly dangerous or powerful, as this mirror was, a detailed understanding would have been needed.

Eragon asked, "How often do you use the mirror?"

Galbatorix glanced at it wistfully, "Oh, less often now. I fear it has taught me nearly all it has to teach. But what craftsman can give up their life's work, the thing which all their energy, blood, and tears has gone into? I keep it around because," he paused, "I am sentimentally attached, more than anything."

Eragon said, "Well, _I_ think it's amazing. I would never be able to create such a thing in a million years."

Galbatorix laughed. "I think you underestimate yourself, and the length of a million years, boy."

"It was a figure of speech." Eragon muttered.

"Anyway, may I look, now?" asked Eragon.

Galbatorix considered carefully. "Yes." It did not need to be said that he would be watching.

Eragon still didn't have a particular question that he needed to know from the pool. So he decided to just take it in, feel the currents, and see where that led. Maybe he would find something to ask, and maybe not.

Taking it in as elements, it was like the abstract concept of a liquid, with the abstract concept of elements contained within. The stars were either infinitely hot or infinitely cold, or perhaps both, or something in between. At any rate, they twinkled through the slightest of currents on the surface of the liquid.

The liquid...Eragon did not know. He could not even begin to guess what it was, although...something about it made him think of his earlier invocation of _líf_ to control his heartbeat. He suddenly had a strong desire to drink, a near-infinite thirst, but controlled himself.

He stepped away from the pool and turned back to Galbatorix. "Do you have a glass of water, by any chance? I find myself parched."

Galbatorix seemed to both grin, leer, and grow in size, all while not changing physically in the slightest. "Of course, we have been talking a while," he said, politely. "Let us rejoin for refreshments."

About five seconds later, a serving girl came in with a tray containing a jug of cold water and an appropriate amount of ice. She set it down on a nearby table.

"Thank you," said Eragon to her.

She nodded, and walked out hurriedly.

Eragon took a long drink of the cool water.

"So." he said, carefully placing the glass back on the tray in the same position. "What do you think about this potential deal?" He waited for Galbatorix to reply.

"I am...cautiously optimistic." He gave the impression of communication with Shruikan. Eragon was not sure if Galbatorix knew he could detect this, but out of respect, chose to ignore it.

"Is there any particular part, or parts, which you find not to your liking?"

Galbatorix shook his head. "I am disbelieving that you would actually do as you say...but a binding oath in the ancient language..."

"Which we would say together, and both mean with all of our beings." pointed out Eragon.

Galbatorix frowned at him. "I could take advantage of you here, you know. Your oath, if it is as you described earlier, has obvious problems and loopholes which would allow me to escape the oath while keeping you bound."

Eragon nodded. "That was just the executive summary. We can get down to the details now, or later, whichever you prefer. One thing I might suggest is that we work out a minimal set of rules that _all_ must obey, even you, the King."

Galbatorix took a moment to think this over, "Yes, I think this can be done. But know this, boy. If you ever deviate, even slightly, from these rules-"

"We will resist, if you attempt to attack us." said Eragon simply. "You may kill me, but we do not, and cannot agree on behalf of anyone else. You may think of this as a prelude to a treaty between the Crown and the Varden. Such a treaty has not, and will not have been, made, for I am not the voice of the Varden nor its ruler. I am merely a symbol."

"You have interrupted me again." said Galbatorix.

"Strike me down, then." said Eragon.

Galbatorix began narrowing his eyes, and then they widened in surprise. This time, Eragon was sure it was genuine.

Galbatorix laughed, and began clapping. "Oh, well played. I can certainly say I did not expect this outcome when you came through that door." His clapping died away with reverberating echoes.

"All right." He switched back to all business. "Let us get this over with."

Eragon said, "Hold on. You confirm that you wish to make this potential deal that I have proposed?"

Galbatorix sighed. "Yes, I suppose I do."

They then spent forty-five minutes hashing out the precise wording of the oath in the ancient language - but being two powerful Riders with access to Shruikan and the pool, they managed to get an agreement which they both thought captured the spirit of the agreement as well as the letter.

"Now," said Eragon, "We are not going to rush this. We will say it very carefully, one by one, each correcting the others pronunciation or other imperfection of accent or timing. At no point during this will we imbue the magic with will. Only once we are each satisfied with the other's intonation will we say it together. And we will practise together at least three times before saying it in binding, to the pool."

Galbatorix nodded. "Sensible."

So that's what they did. At no point did either of them consider acting in bad faith, and trying to get one over on the other. It would have been pointless - this agreement was superior to any either of them could have come up with on their own.

* * *

Now Eragon only had to explain it to the Varden. Considering what he had agreed to, this was not going to be a simple task. But he thought he could get them to understand, in time.


End file.
